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"description": "Once, an ancient curse has plagued the dragons of Equestria. Now that it has returned, the dragons are... shall we say... very horny. BUT... there is NO outlet at all for that horny-ness! What can Spike, Ember, Smolder and the others do about this? How will they fare having only smooth scales where anatomy should be? Stick around and find out! Expect lots of surprises, belly and crotch play, and other weird stuffs!\n\n[url=https://inkbunny.net/s/3720703]First[/url] ~ [url=https://inkbunny.net/s/3720703]PREV[/url] ~ NEXT\n\nNow our three prominent scalies are both giving AND getting a TASTE, so to speak, of what the Nullification Curse is leaving them with, much to the delight of a few FAMILIAR quadrupeds! 😏\nBut that's not ALL who wants in on the action, though... more on that in Chapter 3.\n\nCritiques are always welcome! ",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "Once, an ancient curse has plagued the dragons of Equestria. Now that it has returned, the dragons are... shall we say... very horny. BUT... there is NO outlet at all for that horny-ness! What can Spike, Ember, Smolder and the others do about this? How will they fare having only smooth scales where anatomy should be? Stick around and find out! Expect lots of surprises, belly and crotch play, and other weird stuffs!
First ~ PREV ~ NEXT
Now our three prominent scalies are both giving AND getting a TASTE, so to speak, of what the Nullification Curse is leaving them with, much to the delight of a few FAMILIAR quadrupeds! 😏
But that's not ALL who wants in on the action, though... more on that in Chapter 3.
Critiques are always welcome! ",
"writing": "[b]\"Dragonslick:\nThe Smooth Curse\"[/b]\n\nWritten by Rupert Chubby Fawks\n\n[color=#ef2929]Disclaimer: all characters presented in this story are of legal age. The following are present throughout: tummylingus, groping, humping, fingering, grinding, featureless crotch sex, orgasm denial, primal urges, and strong language.[/color]\n\n-------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n[b]Chapter 2: The Tasting of the Fruit... and Dragon[/b]\n\nThe next day started, perhaps stupidly, with a smoothie.\n\nSpike had just come from the market; the thick glass of mango-apple-passionfruit-burst balanced in one claw as he pushed open the castle door. Twilight wasn't home. Too bad - he was planning to show off his new favorite fruit blend and maybe even get a hoof massage if he laid it on thick. The floorboards were hot under his bare feet, and his scales shimmered with heat-sheen - late summer left everyone damp and cranky, but dragons especially.\n\nHe gulped down a third of the juice in one go, then flopped onto the rug, stretching out full length, arms overhead, tail curling. His belly, a pale green stretch of velvety scale, heaved with the deep breath he took. His free hand rested low on his stomach, claws splayed wide, just above his infamous smoothspot.\n\nHis nethers, of course, were slick with sweat already. The curve of his groin glistened in the sunlight, showing nothing. A seamless swell leading into the tail: perfectly barren. And it was still warm, wet, and pulsing with unshed desire.\n\nAnd then the door opened.\n\n``Spike?'' came Fluttershy's soft voice, followed by the quiet clop of hooves.\n\nSpike sat up fast, and the bottle slipped.\n\nThe thick smoothie tipped forward and spilled - straight down his front, hot juice sloshing across his chest and soaking into the warm pit of his groin. He gasped, stiffening, both from the chill of the fruit mash and the way it spread across the hyper-sensitive smoothness, dripping down into the junction of thighs and tailbase like it had a mission.\n\n``Ah! Mmh - ! Fffuck - !'' Spike grunted, trying to sit up, but it only made it worse. The juice spread further, a few droplets even slipping into the tiny groove between his belly and tailroot. His hips bucked from the sensation alone.\n\n``Oh no, I'm sor - oh my...'' Fluttershy froze, muzzle twitching, eyes wide.\n\nHer gaze dropped to the slick mess pooling on Spike's groin. His thighs were parted, tail coiled under him, his belly heaving - and his entire crotch was practically shining with spilled juice and sweat. Pink fluid met golden-green skin, glossy and obscene.\n\nShe swallowed. ``Did... did that feel good?''\n\nSpike whimpered, still frozen mid-sit. ``I... y-yeah. Yeah, it... kinda does.''\n\nAnd then Fluttershy stepped closer.\n\nHer hoof landed near his hip.\n\n``Can I...'' she whispered, voice barely audible, ``...clean it?''\n\nShe didn't wait for the answer. She leaned in and nuzzled his belly first - soft little kisses, starting at the sternum and trailing down. Spike squirmed, breath catching as her lips neared the crest of his smooth groin.\n\nA kiss.\n\nThen another.\n\nAnd then her lips were right there, pressing into the spot where nothing was. Her tongue flicked, tasting juice and sweat and heat, and Spike moaned, loud and shivering:\n\n``Fffffhahhh...!''\n\nFluttershy giggled softly against him. ``I never realized how... sensitive you were here.''\n\n``It's... it's all I've got,'' Spike groaned, claws clenching the rug. ``I can't... I don't have anything else. Just... that.''\n\nShe licked again, slower. The smooth curve beneath her tongue quivered, and Spike's hips bucked gently against her face. His tail twitched behind him, eyes squeezed shut.\n\nShe nuzzled him right between the thighs.\n\n``I like it,'' she murmured.\n\nThe kisses didn't stop. Fluttershy was... thorough.\n\nShe lingered, brushing her lips slowly down the pale green center of Spike's belly, nuzzling where the juice clung like dew. Her tongue was a shy little thing - fluttering out just enough to taste him, drawing the flavor of mango from between the ridges of scale, swirling where sweat had pooled in the low divot of his navel.\n\nSpike twitched with every press.\n\nHis thighs trembled, tail thumping the rug uselessly behind him. Each wet kiss landed lower than the last, and her nose grazed that infamous bare swell - his smooth, glistening crotch, flushed pink-green and utterly blank.\n\n``Oh Celestia - nnnhhff - '' he gasped, squirming.\n\nFluttershy was relentless. Her breath warmed the bare curve, and her tongue flattened, dragging slow and wet along the very bottom of his belly. She didn't rush. Her lips mapped every inch of that seamless valley, pressing right where a shaft might've been, a slit, anything - but there was nothing. Just heat. Just pressure. Just a writhing little dragon melting under her reverent mouth.\n\n``I think... I think it's adorable,'' she whispered, nosing the crease where belly met thigh. ``It's like a soft little secret...''\n\nSpike whimpered, clawing at the floor. ``It's not little to me - nnnnhh - Fluttershy it's all I've got - ''\n\nAnd she kissed it again. Right on the wettest spot.\n\nHis entire groin flexed, twitching under her snout. Her lips dragged sideways across the blankness, pressing firm and slow. Spike howled - a raw, shaky cry that broke into hiccupy gasps. He bucked, once, and the slick curve pushed into her muzzle.\n\nThe taste of fruit was gone. Now, it was just `dragon': salty, warm and desperate.\n\nFluttershy moaned softly into his skin. ``I want to keep going.''\n\n``S-so do I,'' he breathed.\n\nAnd then her mouth was open - tongue bathing that smooth patch in swirling, rhythmic laps. Slow circles. Up-and-down strokes. Featherlight, then firmer, her lips suckling the curve of nothing as if it might respond. And Spike's body did. His thighs locked around her head. His tail wrapped hers on instinct, and he shuddered - a long, keening groan dragged from his chest as the friction built into something unbearable.\n\nNot a single drop spilled. But he shook like he'd just emptied everything.\n\nAnd Fluttershy licked her lips.\n\n``...Sweet,'' she murmured.\n\nElsewhere in Ponyville, Smolder was having her moment.\n\nShe'd just come from a training flight and had ducked into the spa - wet, sore, and sweaty. Rainbow Dash had dragged her along for a \"quick soak,\" but after ten minutes, Dash had flitted off to flirt with a masseuse, leaving Smolder alone in the hot tub area. Alone with... Pinkie Pie.\n\nThe water jets were powerful. Too powerful. Smolder had perched on the edge of one, not thinking much, tail lazily flicking in the water. She let the spray bubble up between her thighs, splashing against her groin - \n\nAnd then she yelped.\n\n``O-ohh - !! Fff-fffuckin?... jets - !''\n\nThe spray was directly on her null slit, pounding her with pulse after pulse of wet pressure. It was all nerves, all sensation - no release. Her claws dug into the tile edge as her thighs clamped around the water, hips rocking involuntarily. The smooth stretch of scale from belly to tail ached under the assault.\n\nPinkie appeared beside her in a flash. ``You okay, Smoldy? You're making little noises!''\n\nSmolder bared her teeth, panting. ``Y-you ever try... putting the jet here?'' She jabbed a claw at the softest part of her crotch. ``It's fucking torture.''\n\nPinkie blinked. ``Can I try?''\n\n``What - ? You - ?''\n\nBut it was too late. Pinkie slid under the water, then popped up behind her, face pressed against Smolder's back, breath warm.\n\n``You smell like steam and girl-dragon,'' she whispered, and Smolder shuddered.\n\nPinkie reached under, palmed the smooth groin, and slid a hoof in tight, slow circles against the glistening seam.\n\nSmolder howled, back arching, tail flailing water everywhere.\n\n``No - no - noooo~hhhhhffh - ghhhODDD - ''\n\nJet pounding. Hoof grinding. And still, not a drop spilled.\n\nHer claws were white-knuckling the hot tub's edge. The jet under her was still going - blasting up through the water in a relentless, frothing stream of pressure right into her most sensitive nothing. That smooth, damp slit ached, pulsed, burned under the attack.\n\nAnd Pinkie hadn't moved.\n\nThe party pony was behind her, chin on Smolder's shoulder now, wet curls clinging to her cheek as she purred into the dragon's neck. ``You make the cutest sounds when you're all squirmy-smooth~''\n\n``D-don't - *ahhffhh! - *don't call it that - !''\n\nPinkie's hoof returned, sliding low under the water. Traced the sleek line of Smolder's groin with maddening gentleness.\n\nIt was all one stretch of gleaming, slick scale - taut, warm, twitching. Pinkie's hoof grazed the midline, circling a tiny dip just above her tail, and Smolder shrieked.\n\n``GYAAHH - ! Fuck! Pinkie - hhffFUCK - !''\n\nShe was grinding into it now, unable to stop herself - hips rocking against the blast of water, pressing her throbbing, empty groove into Pinkie's circling touch. No shaft. No entrance. Nothing to spread or push into. Just the unbearable pressure of stimulation with no outlet.\n\nAnd it was killing her.\n\n``You look so shiny,'' Pinkie murmured, pressing her cheek to Smolder's. ``Like a perfectly polished peach. Mmm... slippery dragonfruit~''\n\nSmolder panted. ``I'm gonna - I'm gonna explode - !''\n\n``You can't, remember?'' Pinkie giggled devilishly. ``Not even a dribble. That's what makes it fun.''\n\nShe wrapped both forelegs around Smolder's waist and began kissing her backside - soft, rapid-fire pecks that grew slower as her lips descended. She kissed along the curve of Smolder's rear, then under, nose bumping the jetstream as she found that soaked, hyper-sensitive null-groin and kissed it: hard.\n\nSmolder went rigid; tail shot up, legs kicked out, and water sloshed violently.\n\n``N-no - !! PINKIE - !''\n\nShe bit her own claws to keep from screaming as the jet blasted her raw and Pinkie's lips suckled the seam of her groin. It was like being fucked by absence. Her body demanded release, and nothing came.\n\nOnly the sensation.\n\nOnly more heat. More twitching. More pleasure that crested and crashed and never ended.\n\nHer voice cracked. ``I hate this. I love this. I hate you. I - fhhhaAAHH - !!''\n\nPinkie surfaced with a giggle and a splash.\n\n``You're fun, Smoldy~''\n\nAnd Smolder? Smolder just sank into the water with a ragged, ruined groan.\n\nThe following day, Twilight hosted an ``Anatomy Lecture'' for pony-and-non-pony citizens alike. Educational, she claimed. ``Cross-species learning,'' she said.\n\nShe had two prominent and familiar dragons stand up front: her very own Spike, and the current dragon lord Ember.\n\nShe also had diagrams. Then, for `science', she unveiled them.\n\nBoth reptiles stood bare: Ember tall and imposing, scales glossy, groin utterly blank. Spike was shorter, already flushed, his belly green and too wet-looking under the light. Murmurs swept through the crowd.\n\n``Is it true?'' Rarity whispered, leaning forward. ``Nothing... at all?''\n\nSpike's face burned.\n\nRarity walked forward.\n\nEveryone watched.\n\nShe knelt... and kissed his belly. First one, then two, then she went lower.\n\nHer lips now brushed down the centerline until they were pressing into the taut swell of dragon-groin - right where something should've been, but wasn't, achingly wasn't.\n\nSpike trembled.\n\n``Such a smooth young man,'' Rarity purred.\n\nApplejack stepped forward too. ``You mind if I touch that line y'got?'' She reached out and traced the faint groove at the bottom of Spike's belly. ``Darn near hypnotic.''\n\nHe whimpered. ``T-this is... torture...''\n\nTwilight cleared her throat, looking flushed herself. ``Yes. Well. As you can see, the draconic species has recently experienced a complete nullification of genital structures but have retained full erogenous nerve density. Some theories suggest...''\n\nAnd behind her, Ember buckled as Starlight Glimmer casually kissed the blue one's lower belly. Just once. A soft, reverent press against her wet-sheened cerulean scales, leaving her clawed hands twitching.\n\n``I will kill whoever made this curse,'' Ember growled, shaking with tension.\n\nSpike was trembling again. Not from heat. Not this time.\n\nHe was standing in front of an auditorium packed with ponies, yaks, griffons, changelings, and other fellow dragons.\n\nAnd he was `naked', bare-scaled, and shining under the enchanted overheads like a nervous gemstone.\n\nAnd the center of attention? His smooth, blank groin.\n\nTwilight?s pointer hovered above a magically projected diagram of dragon nullification. ``You'll notice the complete absence of reproductive structures. But neural mapping confirms this region remains highly - ahem - responsive.''\n\nThe pointer moved to Ember. She stood tall. Proud. Still. But her claws were clenched. Her jaw was tight.\n\nBehind her, Starlight Glimmer stepped up again and planted another kiss. Even lower this time. Right against the crook of Ember's inner thigh.\n\nThe dragoness twitched, and Twilight kept going. ``This phenomenon affects all modern dragons. Cross-species comparison reveals that - ''\n\n``Mmh... such perfect symmetry,'' Rarity purred from below, still kneeling.\n\nSpike could barely hear her over the rush in his ears. Her lips pressed deeper against the flush curve of his groin. Each kiss was slower now, more sensual, and her tongue was starting to dip. Explore. Lap at the crease where his thighs met that heated, flushed swell.\n\nAnd then Applejack joined her: one hoof, low and careful.\n\nShe traced Spike's entire groove. Front to back. One motion. Smooth and unbroken.\n\nHe moaned, shuddering on stage.\n\n``Y'all're hotter'n a July skillet,'' Applejack murmured.\n\nRarity smiled. ``He's exquisite.''\n\nSomewhere behind him, someone was gasping. A unicorn mare had fainted. A griffon was fanning themselves. A changeling hissed softly, wings fluttering.\n\nTwilight flushed darker. ``We may... need to postpone the remaining slides.''\n\nBut it was too late.\n\nRarity and Applejack had started coaxing - grazing him with kisses and strokes like he might bloom open under enough attention. But there was nothing to touch. No shaft and no slit. Just hypersensitive smoothness and the tension of being seen.\n\nSpike broke.\n\nHe let out a long, shaky groan - half hum, half sob - and collapsed to his knees. Rarity caught him in time. ``Such a brave little dragon,'' she whispered, brushing his damp frills aside.\n\nApplejack kissed his brow.\n\nAnd behind them, Ember growled, ``Next.''\n\nLater that night, back in the Friendship Castle, Spike lay alone.\n\nThe crystal walls hummed with that faint magical resonance - always too pristine, too clean. Even his room looked sterile in the moonlight pouring through the window, like a place built to erase urges. That smug architectural elegance. No warmth. No curves. Just lines, edges, hollow floors and empty corners.\n\nHe was on his bed, his belly to the sheets, and his claws were buried in the blankets, gripping like he was trying to tear reality open with them. His hips moved in violent rhythm, grinding down into the cushion, tail raised, ass flexing tight with each desperate hump.\n\n``Hhhnnghh - ahh... hhhfffuck, ffffuuuck it, gods, I need - nnghh - something, I - !''\n\nHis crotch made a faint slik-slik-slik sound where sweat-slick scales met the now-wet sheets, a humiliating little chorus to his hopeless thrusting. The bed creaked beneath him. He was rutting like an animal, panting, moaning into his pillow - belly drenched and smeared in sweat, his legs trembling from the relentless motion.\n\nNo cock. No slit. Just feverish, useless pleasure blazing along his nerves with nowhere to go. He humped faster, harder, his hips slapping against the bedding with wet urgency, clawtips shredding the sheets with each rising thrust.\n\n``Hhhhahhhh - nnnnnNNGGH - Smolder - ! S-Smold, oh ancients, I-I c-can't stop - !''\n\nHe could still feel her from earlier. The memory of her body, smooth and grinding, warm belly pressed to his, her voice snarling in his ear. He thrust down again, bedding soaked, mind boiling, body convulsing in a phantom climax. His whole frame seized - hips jerking, thighs trembling, eyes clenched shut.\n\nNothing came out. Nothing ever did.\n\nAnd still - he didn't stop.\n\nHis moans melted into frantic little whimpers. His hips stuttered, still chasing something that refused to exist. The dull ache in his belly had become sharp, like a pressure knot buried just under the skin, pulsing with false promise.\n\n``Hhhhffuck - hffff- fuck me, just let me - let me come, gods - !''\n\nHe pressed his face hard into the pillow and let out a long, cracked groan, his whole body flexing with one last push, grinding his slick groin into the drenched sheets.\n\nStill nothing.\n\nJust the wet sound of scale dragging across fabric. That and his breath, shallow and shuddering, little gasps like a fire sputtering out.\n\nMoments later, his body slumped.\n\nHe let out a weak and broken laugh.\n\n``What the hell am I even doing anymore....''\n\nThe sheets were a mess. His belly was sticky with sweat and slick. His legs twitched occasionally, little aftershocks of phantom pleasure rattling through him like distant thunder.\n\nAnd yet... there was something nice in the mess of things.\n\nThe way his body tried, even when biology betrayed him. The way it still burned and begged and bucked and sobbed, all for a climax that didn't exist. The raw, ridiculous poetry of it.\n\nHe reached down and slowly rubbed his belly, fingertips ghosting across the hot smoothness, up over the empty patch of crotch that still tingled. Still twitched. Still wanted. His claws drifted lower, teasing around the tail base, where sensation flared up at the slightest touch.\n\nHe rolled onto his side and curled up into the lingering warmth.\n\nThe sheets clung to his skin, soaked through, smelling like desperation and perspiration and something that maybe, maybe almost felt like satisfaction.\n\nA little smile pulled at his muzzle.\n\n``Smooth fuckin' criminal...'' he muttered to himself, then giggled into the pillow, warm and delirious.\n\nThen, Spike changed the sheets and pillow, and the drake drifted off, tail curling around his thighs, belly still tingling faintly, breath slowing, body aglow under moonlight.\n\nIn the cold, quiet castle, he slept alone - but not untouched.\n\n",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": ""Dragonslick:
The Smooth Curse"
Written by Rupert Chubby Fawks
Disclaimer: all characters presented in this story are of legal age. The following are present throughout: tummylingus, groping, humping, fingering, grinding, featureless crotch sex, orgasm denial, primal urges, and strong language.
-------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 2: The Tasting of the Fruit... and Dragon
The next day started, perhaps stupidly, with a smoothie.
Spike had just come from the market; the thick glass of mango-apple-passionfruit-burst balanced in one claw as he pushed open the castle door. Twilight wasn't home. Too bad - he was planning to show off his new favorite fruit blend and maybe even get a hoof massage if he laid it on thick. The floorboards were hot under his bare feet, and his scales shimmered with heat-sheen - late summer left everyone damp and cranky, but dragons especially.
He gulped down a third of the juice in one go, then flopped onto the rug, stretching out full length, arms overhead, tail curling. His belly, a pale green stretch of velvety scale, heaved with the deep breath he took. His free hand rested low on his stomach, claws splayed wide, just above his infamous smoothspot.
His nethers, of course, were slick with sweat already. The curve of his groin glistened in the sunlight, showing nothing. A seamless swell leading into the tail: perfectly barren. And it was still warm, wet, and pulsing with unshed desire.
And then the door opened.
``Spike?'' came Fluttershy's soft voice, followed by the quiet clop of hooves.
Spike sat up fast, and the bottle slipped.
The thick smoothie tipped forward and spilled - straight down his front, hot juice sloshing across his chest and soaking into the warm pit of his groin. He gasped, stiffening, both from the chill of the fruit mash and the way it spread across the hyper-sensitive smoothness, dripping down into the junction of thighs and tailbase like it had a mission.
``Ah! Mmh - ! Fffuck - !'' Spike grunted, trying to sit up, but it only made it worse. The juice spread further, a few droplets even slipping into the tiny groove between his belly and tailroot. His hips bucked from the sensation alone.
``Oh no, I'm sor - oh my...'' Fluttershy froze, muzzle twitching, eyes wide.
Her gaze dropped to the slick mess pooling on Spike's groin. His thighs were parted, tail coiled under him, his belly heaving - and his entire crotch was practically shining with spilled juice and sweat. Pink fluid met golden-green skin, glossy and obscene.
She swallowed. ``Did... did that feel good?''
Spike whimpered, still frozen mid-sit. ``I... y-yeah. Yeah, it... kinda does.''
And then Fluttershy stepped closer.
Her hoof landed near his hip.
``Can I...'' she whispered, voice barely audible, ``...clean it?''
She didn't wait for the answer. She leaned in and nuzzled his belly first - soft little kisses, starting at the sternum and trailing down. Spike squirmed, breath catching as her lips neared the crest of his smooth groin.
A kiss.
Then another.
And then her lips were right there, pressing into the spot where nothing was. Her tongue flicked, tasting juice and sweat and heat, and Spike moaned, loud and shivering:
``Fffffhahhh...!''
Fluttershy giggled softly against him. ``I never realized how... sensitive you were here.''
``It's... it's all I've got,'' Spike groaned, claws clenching the rug. ``I can't... I don't have anything else. Just... that.''
She licked again, slower. The smooth curve beneath her tongue quivered, and Spike's hips bucked gently against her face. His tail twitched behind him, eyes squeezed shut.
She nuzzled him right between the thighs.
``I like it,'' she murmured.
The kisses didn't stop. Fluttershy was... thorough.
She lingered, brushing her lips slowly down the pale green center of Spike's belly, nuzzling where the juice clung like dew. Her tongue was a shy little thing - fluttering out just enough to taste him, drawing the flavor of mango from between the ridges of scale, swirling where sweat had pooled in the low divot of his navel.
Spike twitched with every press.
His thighs trembled, tail thumping the rug uselessly behind him. Each wet kiss landed lower than the last, and her nose grazed that infamous bare swell - his smooth, glistening crotch, flushed pink-green and utterly blank.
``Oh Celestia - nnnhhff - '' he gasped, squirming.
Fluttershy was relentless. Her breath warmed the bare curve, and her tongue flattened, dragging slow and wet along the very bottom of his belly. She didn't rush. Her lips mapped every inch of that seamless valley, pressing right where a shaft might've been, a slit, anything - but there was nothing. Just heat. Just pressure. Just a writhing little dragon melting under her reverent mouth.
``I think... I think it's adorable,'' she whispered, nosing the crease where belly met thigh. ``It's like a soft little secret...''
Spike whimpered, clawing at the floor. ``It's not little to me - nnnnhh - Fluttershy it's all I've got - ''
And she kissed it again. Right on the wettest spot.
His entire groin flexed, twitching under her snout. Her lips dragged sideways across the blankness, pressing firm and slow. Spike howled - a raw, shaky cry that broke into hiccupy gasps. He bucked, once, and the slick curve pushed into her muzzle.
The taste of fruit was gone. Now, it was just `dragon': salty, warm and desperate.
Fluttershy moaned softly into his skin. ``I want to keep going.''
``S-so do I,'' he breathed.
And then her mouth was open - tongue bathing that smooth patch in swirling, rhythmic laps. Slow circles. Up-and-down strokes. Featherlight, then firmer, her lips suckling the curve of nothing as if it might respond. And Spike's body did. His thighs locked around her head. His tail wrapped hers on instinct, and he shuddered - a long, keening groan dragged from his chest as the friction built into something unbearable.
Not a single drop spilled. But he shook like he'd just emptied everything.
And Fluttershy licked her lips.
``...Sweet,'' she murmured.
Elsewhere in Ponyville, Smolder was having her moment.
She'd just come from a training flight and had ducked into the spa - wet, sore, and sweaty. Rainbow Dash had dragged her along for a "quick soak," but after ten minutes, Dash had flitted off to flirt with a masseuse, leaving Smolder alone in the hot tub area. Alone with... Pinkie Pie.
The water jets were powerful. Too powerful. Smolder had perched on the edge of one, not thinking much, tail lazily flicking in the water. She let the spray bubble up between her thighs, splashing against her groin -
And then she yelped.
``O-ohh - !! Fff-fffuckin?... jets - !''
The spray was directly on her null slit, pounding her with pulse after pulse of wet pressure. It was all nerves, all sensation - no release. Her claws dug into the tile edge as her thighs clamped around the water, hips rocking involuntarily. The smooth stretch of scale from belly to tail ached under the assault.
Pinkie appeared beside her in a flash. ``You okay, Smoldy? You're making little noises!''
Smolder bared her teeth, panting. ``Y-you ever try... putting the jet here?'' She jabbed a claw at the softest part of her crotch. ``It's fucking torture.''
Pinkie blinked. ``Can I try?''
``What - ? You - ?''
But it was too late. Pinkie slid under the water, then popped up behind her, face pressed against Smolder's back, breath warm.
``You smell like steam and girl-dragon,'' she whispered, and Smolder shuddered.
Pinkie reached under, palmed the smooth groin, and slid a hoof in tight, slow circles against the glistening seam.
Smolder howled, back arching, tail flailing water everywhere.
``No - no - noooo~hhhhhffh - ghhhODDD - ''
Jet pounding. Hoof grinding. And still, not a drop spilled.
Her claws were white-knuckling the hot tub's edge. The jet under her was still going - blasting up through the water in a relentless, frothing stream of pressure right into her most sensitive nothing. That smooth, damp slit ached, pulsed, burned under the attack.
And Pinkie hadn't moved.
The party pony was behind her, chin on Smolder's shoulder now, wet curls clinging to her cheek as she purred into the dragon's neck. ``You make the cutest sounds when you're all squirmy-smooth~''
``D-don't - *ahhffhh! - *don't call it that - !''
Pinkie's hoof returned, sliding low under the water. Traced the sleek line of Smolder's groin with maddening gentleness.
It was all one stretch of gleaming, slick scale - taut, warm, twitching. Pinkie's hoof grazed the midline, circling a tiny dip just above her tail, and Smolder shrieked.
``GYAAHH - ! Fuck! Pinkie - hhffFUCK - !''
She was grinding into it now, unable to stop herself - hips rocking against the blast of water, pressing her throbbing, empty groove into Pinkie's circling touch. No shaft. No entrance. Nothing to spread or push into. Just the unbearable pressure of stimulation with no outlet.
And it was killing her.
``You look so shiny,'' Pinkie murmured, pressing her cheek to Smolder's. ``Like a perfectly polished peach. Mmm... slippery dragonfruit~''
Smolder panted. ``I'm gonna - I'm gonna explode - !''
``You can't, remember?'' Pinkie giggled devilishly. ``Not even a dribble. That's what makes it fun.''
She wrapped both forelegs around Smolder's waist and began kissing her backside - soft, rapid-fire pecks that grew slower as her lips descended. She kissed along the curve of Smolder's rear, then under, nose bumping the jetstream as she found that soaked, hyper-sensitive null-groin and kissed it: hard.
Smolder went rigid; tail shot up, legs kicked out, and water sloshed violently.
``N-no - !! PINKIE - !''
She bit her own claws to keep from screaming as the jet blasted her raw and Pinkie's lips suckled the seam of her groin. It was like being fucked by absence. Her body demanded release, and nothing came.
Only the sensation.
Only more heat. More twitching. More pleasure that crested and crashed and never ended.
Her voice cracked. ``I hate this. I love this. I hate you. I - fhhhaAAHH - !!''
Pinkie surfaced with a giggle and a splash.
``You're fun, Smoldy~''
And Smolder? Smolder just sank into the water with a ragged, ruined groan.
The following day, Twilight hosted an ``Anatomy Lecture'' for pony-and-non-pony citizens alike. Educational, she claimed. ``Cross-species learning,'' she said.
She had two prominent and familiar dragons stand up front: her very own Spike, and the current dragon lord Ember.
She also had diagrams. Then, for `science', she unveiled them.
Both reptiles stood bare: Ember tall and imposing, scales glossy, groin utterly blank. Spike was shorter, already flushed, his belly green and too wet-looking under the light. Murmurs swept through the crowd.
``Is it true?'' Rarity whispered, leaning forward. ``Nothing... at all?''
Spike's face burned.
Rarity walked forward.
Everyone watched.
She knelt... and kissed his belly. First one, then two, then she went lower.
Her lips now brushed down the centerline until they were pressing into the taut swell of dragon-groin - right where something should've been, but wasn't, achingly wasn't.
Spike trembled.
``Such a smooth young man,'' Rarity purred.
Applejack stepped forward too. ``You mind if I touch that line y'got?'' She reached out and traced the faint groove at the bottom of Spike's belly. ``Darn near hypnotic.''
He whimpered. ``T-this is... torture...''
Twilight cleared her throat, looking flushed herself. ``Yes. Well. As you can see, the draconic species has recently experienced a complete nullification of genital structures but have retained full erogenous nerve density. Some theories suggest...''
And behind her, Ember buckled as Starlight Glimmer casually kissed the blue one's lower belly. Just once. A soft, reverent press against her wet-sheened cerulean scales, leaving her clawed hands twitching.
``I will kill whoever made this curse,'' Ember growled, shaking with tension.
Spike was trembling again. Not from heat. Not this time.
He was standing in front of an auditorium packed with ponies, yaks, griffons, changelings, and other fellow dragons.
And he was `naked', bare-scaled, and shining under the enchanted overheads like a nervous gemstone.
And the center of attention? His smooth, blank groin.
Twilight?s pointer hovered above a magically projected diagram of dragon nullification. ``You'll notice the complete absence of reproductive structures. But neural mapping confirms this region remains highly - ahem - responsive.''
The pointer moved to Ember. She stood tall. Proud. Still. But her claws were clenched. Her jaw was tight.
Behind her, Starlight Glimmer stepped up again and planted another kiss. Even lower this time. Right against the crook of Ember's inner thigh.
The dragoness twitched, and Twilight kept going. ``This phenomenon affects all modern dragons. Cross-species comparison reveals that - ''
``Mmh... such perfect symmetry,'' Rarity purred from below, still kneeling.
Spike could barely hear her over the rush in his ears. Her lips pressed deeper against the flush curve of his groin. Each kiss was slower now, more sensual, and her tongue was starting to dip. Explore. Lap at the crease where his thighs met that heated, flushed swell.
And then Applejack joined her: one hoof, low and careful.
She traced Spike's entire groove. Front to back. One motion. Smooth and unbroken.
He moaned, shuddering on stage.
``Y'all're hotter'n a July skillet,'' Applejack murmured.
Rarity smiled. ``He's exquisite.''
Somewhere behind him, someone was gasping. A unicorn mare had fainted. A griffon was fanning themselves. A changeling hissed softly, wings fluttering.
Twilight flushed darker. ``We may... need to postpone the remaining slides.''
But it was too late.
Rarity and Applejack had started coaxing - grazing him with kisses and strokes like he might bloom open under enough attention. But there was nothing to touch. No shaft and no slit. Just hypersensitive smoothness and the tension of being seen.
Spike broke.
He let out a long, shaky groan - half hum, half sob - and collapsed to his knees. Rarity caught him in time. ``Such a brave little dragon,'' she whispered, brushing his damp frills aside.
Applejack kissed his brow.
And behind them, Ember growled, ``Next.''
Later that night, back in the Friendship Castle, Spike lay alone.
The crystal walls hummed with that faint magical resonance - always too pristine, too clean. Even his room looked sterile in the moonlight pouring through the window, like a place built to erase urges. That smug architectural elegance. No warmth. No curves. Just lines, edges, hollow floors and empty corners.
He was on his bed, his belly to the sheets, and his claws were buried in the blankets, gripping like he was trying to tear reality open with them. His hips moved in violent rhythm, grinding down into the cushion, tail raised, ass flexing tight with each desperate hump.
``Hhhnnghh - ahh... hhhfffuck, ffffuuuck it, gods, I need - nnghh - something, I - !''
His crotch made a faint slik-slik-slik sound where sweat-slick scales met the now-wet sheets, a humiliating little chorus to his hopeless thrusting. The bed creaked beneath him. He was rutting like an animal, panting, moaning into his pillow - belly drenched and smeared in sweat, his legs trembling from the relentless motion.
No cock. No slit. Just feverish, useless pleasure blazing along his nerves with nowhere to go. He humped faster, harder, his hips slapping against the bedding with wet urgency, clawtips shredding the sheets with each rising thrust.
``Hhhhahhhh - nnnnnNNGGH - Smolder - ! S-Smold, oh ancients, I-I c-can't stop - !''
He could still feel her from earlier. The memory of her body, smooth and grinding, warm belly pressed to his, her voice snarling in his ear. He thrust down again, bedding soaked, mind boiling, body convulsing in a phantom climax. His whole frame seized - hips jerking, thighs trembling, eyes clenched shut.
Nothing came out. Nothing ever did.
And still - he didn't stop.
His moans melted into frantic little whimpers. His hips stuttered, still chasing something that refused to exist. The dull ache in his belly had become sharp, like a pressure knot buried just under the skin, pulsing with false promise.
``Hhhhffuck - hffff- fuck me, just let me - let me come, gods - !''
He pressed his face hard into the pillow and let out a long, cracked groan, his whole body flexing with one last push, grinding his slick groin into the drenched sheets.
Still nothing.
Just the wet sound of scale dragging across fabric. That and his breath, shallow and shuddering, little gasps like a fire sputtering out.
Moments later, his body slumped.
He let out a weak and broken laugh.
``What the hell am I even doing anymore....''
The sheets were a mess. His belly was sticky with sweat and slick. His legs twitched occasionally, little aftershocks of phantom pleasure rattling through him like distant thunder.
And yet... there was something nice in the mess of things.
The way his body tried, even when biology betrayed him. The way it still burned and begged and bucked and sobbed, all for a climax that didn't exist. The raw, ridiculous poetry of it.
He reached down and slowly rubbed his belly, fingertips ghosting across the hot smoothness, up over the empty patch of crotch that still tingled. Still twitched. Still wanted. His claws drifted lower, teasing around the tail base, where sensation flared up at the slightest touch.
He rolled onto his side and curled up into the lingering warmth.
The sheets clung to his skin, soaked through, smelling like desperation and perspiration and something that maybe, maybe almost felt like satisfaction.
A little smile pulled at his muzzle.
``Smooth fuckin' criminal...'' he muttered to himself, then giggled into the pillow, warm and delirious.
Then, Spike changed the sheets and pillow, and the drake drifted off, tail curling around his thighs, belly still tingling faintly, breath slowing, body aglow under moonlight.
In the cold, quiet castle, he slept alone - but not untouched.
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